Inevitable
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: Mary was sitting there, rocking slightly as her lips moved frantically without making a sound. Abigail could see Marshall, her husband, lying limply in Mary's arms. His eyes were closed and his arms hung uselessly as Mary clutched him tightly.


A short drabble that popped into my head. Major character death mentioned. Read on at your own discretion and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

XXXXX

Death was an inevitability.

Abigail Chaffee had no romantic notions when it came to death. Her father had been a man of the law and she remembered so many times how her mother would jump when the phone rang at any given time. She had not understood at the time, but when she was old enough, she did.

Then her own phone rang.

She barely remembered leaving her house and driving to the address Stan McQueen had given her. Marrying Marshall had been one of the best decisions of her life, but she had known his line of work. He had been nearly killed several times long before she ever met him. They both knew being marshalls had its own risks and rewards and while she never dreaded the ring of the phone, she did occasionally wish she had not answered it.

This was one of those times.

Before she reached the address, she saw the emergency service vehicles and barricades. Her stomach twisted into knots before she ever parked the truck.

Someone wasn't walking away from this.

Before she realized it, she was launching herself out of the truck and weaving through the throng of onlookers. "Let me through!" She fumbled for her badge and finally reached Stan, who was white as a sheet. "Who is it?"

"Abigail…"

He reached out for her and she shoved his hand away, ducking past him as she pressed onward.

Where was Marshall?

Her heart pounded and she felt her blood rushing as she searched for her husband. Stan wouldn't have called her if Marshall wasn't hurt. He wouldn't have scared her needlessly.

So why wasn't he anywhere to be seen?

Suddenly she jerked to a stop as she recognized a blond figure sitting on the curb, and for a moment, her mind couldn't process what she was seeing.

Then it did, and she threw up.

Mary was sitting there, rocking slightly as her lips moved frantically without making a sound. Abigail could see Marshall, her husband, lying limply in Mary's arms. His eyes were closed and his arms hung uselessly as Mary clutched him tightly.

Without realizing what she was doing, Abigail drew closer and stopped a few steps away from Mary and Marshall. Mary stared ahead, not seeing anything as her lips continued to move. Upon further inspection, Abigail could see that Mary's lips were stained red, and blood was smeared over Marshall's lips as well. A small, insane part of her wondered just briefly how the blood had gotten there? Was it a valiant attempt to save him, or a moment of desperate need as his life ended? She would never know.

Slowly she sank to her knees and watched with dry eyes as Stan passed her and attempted to coax Mary into letting Marshall go. Mary fought and snarled, her arms cradling Marshall as though he was only sleeping.

"You can't take him!"

Abigail knew better.

Mary finally let loose with a sob as she buried her face in Marshall's hair, and the sound stunned Abigail.

What had Marshall's final words been?

Did he call out for her?

Had he suffered?

She didn't even realize she was crying until she felt a gentle hand on her back. Delia stood behind her, offering a sympathetic expression as Stan tried unsuccessfully to convince Mary to relinquish Marshall.

Abigail allowed Delia to help her to her feet and though she was Marshall's wife, she suddenly felt so lost and out of place. Marshall was hers to mourn, and yet she also hurt for Mary in ways she had not expected. She had been preparing herself for this very thing. Somehow she suspected Mary had not.

Delia took her arm and Abigail allowed her to guide her away. She would mourn in private, away from prying eyes. She would nurse the ache in her heart and somehow find a way to move on, because she knew Marshall would expect her to.

Mary would not.

Finis.


End file.
